


Finding The Words

by wildeisms



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Aggressively Supportive Theseus Scamander, Autistic Newt Scamander, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Meltdown, Non-Chronological, Stimming, Transgender Newt Scamander, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildeisms/pseuds/wildeisms
Summary: A series of ficlets exploring Newt's childhood and how he became the man he is.





	1. The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the people who encouraged me to write more of this headcanon, because I'm becoming more and more obsessed by the day.
> 
> Also, even though Newt is not aware of his gender in some of these ficlets, I'm going to be using he/him pronouns and the name Newt for him in narration, while the other characters will be calling him Artemis (Newt's canon middle name) and using she/her.
> 
> Also #2, while I am a Certified Trans/Autistic(TM), I can't write a Universal Trans/Autistic Experience(TM), so if you're cis please don't take this fic as definitely how it is for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Newt is 7.

“Artemis Scamander, get down from there!”

It was a phrase that he had heard so often, one could almost mistake it for his full name. His parents may as well introduce him to people as ‘Artemis Scamander Get-Down-From-There’. He didn’t like his name much as it was, so perhaps that would be an improvement. It would certainly be more amusing, and cause very few changes to the way his parents spoke to him.

“Now!” His father’s voice was growing louder, and Newt scowled as he dropped down out of the tree he had been climbing to face the man in front of him. Or, more accurately, to stand in front of the man and look down at his own shoes. Not out of shame or defiance, it simply felt right. 

“You know you’re not allowed up there.”

He did know, which made the statement quite pointless. How was he meant to respond to that?

“Artemis. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He didn’t want to. It made him feel far too exposed, and if he was too focused on remembering to look, he sometimes forgot to listen.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“Theseus doesn’t behave like this, does he?” 

Was that a real question which adults get cross at you for ignoring, or one of those strange fake questions which adults get cross at you for answering?

“Well?”

Real question, then. “No, but-”

“No buts. Go inside, now.”

He wished he knew how to explain himself, how to tell his father that he wasn’t trying to be disobedient, he’d just seen what looked like it could be a pixie and he’d simply had to climb up to get a better view, and his excitement had made him forget the rules, without anyone getting cross at him. But he didn’t. So, still scowling down at the floor, he trudged inside. 

There was a bright side, however. Theseus was still out in the garden, which meant that his room would be deserted. Newt remembered that rule, no playing in his brother’s room unless Theseus told him it was okay, but he didn’t want to do anything that naughty. Theseus seemed to have so many clothes and toys that he didn’t even notice one or two going missing every now and then, and if he had ever got upset over the missing items, Newt would have returned them - or hidden them somewhere and let him think that he had misplaced them, so as not to cause suspicion. 

The first time he had taken Theseus’ things, he hadn't thought he was doing anything wrong. His older brother had a wonderful new broomstick which Newt had desperately wanted to try out, and he wasn't even using it at the time. Why shouldn't Newt have taken it out into the garden to try and fly? And, upon discovering how uncomfortable skirts were when combined with a broomstick between his legs, why shouldn't he have pilfered something else to wear? And why, when he felt more alive and incredible than he had ever done before, had his father shouted and forced him to come down and act like a ‘proper lady’?

That was another rule. Certain clothes and toys were only meant for boys, and Newt wasn’t a boy. Except that felt all wrong and Newt hated it. But even if his skirts and dresses had been equally practical, he still wouldn’t be particularly fond of them. He always felt like he was playing a bizarre game of dress up when he was forced into formal attire, and not one that was fun to play. His awkwardness seemed to be exacerbated by them, and he was certain he didn’t look like a proper girl, no matter what his mother said to the contrary. No matter how much or little effort had been put into making him look like a girl, he still felt like the odd one out among them, like he didn’t really belong there. They were all pretty and wore femininity like a second skin, but even when he copied them exactly, he still felt all wrong. In fact, the more feminine he looked, the worse the feeling became. 

It was that feeling that had caused his theft to become repeated. If it even counted as theft, when the clothes he was taking were all too small for Theseus anyway, and they would probably either have to be altered or thrown away if Newt hadn’t taken them. Yet it still filled him with guilt and shame, although whether that was because they were stolen or because he knew how much trouble he’d be in if he was caught breaking the rules like this, he didn’t know. But it was worth it, even if he only got to feel comfortable for a few minutes, alone in his room. It was odd really, how his parents wanted him to be like Theseus in every way except the ones which made him happiest.

Locked away in his bedroom, Newt discarded his dress carelessly and pulled out some of his stolen clothes from their hiding place under his bed, tucked away inside an old pillowcase. They were a little too large for his slight form, but he still smiled when he saw himself in the mirror. His hair was not too long, having always refused to grow much past his shoulders, and if he pulled it back and stood just right, he could definitely be mistaken for a younger, smaller version of Theseus. The idea of that shouldn’t have made him happy, but it did. 

Once he’d had his fill of pretending to be Theseus’ double, he laid down on the floor with his notepad and a quill and started to draw. He had only caught a little glance of the pixie, but he thought he had a good idea of what it had looked like. For good measure, he added a picture of a phoenix too, because even though he hadn’t seen one, they were much more exciting and he had seen pictures of them before, so he knew what they looked like too.

He had tried, just the other day, to talk to Theseus about phoenixes.

“And they can deliver letters like owls if you need them to, because they’re really good at finding people and are really loyal to their owners, and their tail feathers are so magical they can be used to make wands and their tears are really magical too, and they-”

“Wow… Artemis, will you go away now?” Theseus sighed. Did that tone mean that Theseus was bored? But how could he be? This was fascinating, surely he was at least a little bit interested?

“But-”

“Artemis, please. I’m busy. We can talk later, alright?”

Was he? Newt hadn’t noticed. He never seemed to notice things like that.

So he had wandered off, back to his bedroom, and decided to tell his teddy instead. Granted, Teddy couldn't reply or show any interest, but at least he wouldn't tell Newt to go away either.

This time, he decided to go straight to his more captive audience. Instead, he lined up his toys and sat cross-legged in front of them, holding his drawing up. “Pixies and phoenixes are both magical creatures that can fly, but they have lots of different abilities,” he began. 

It wasn’t uncommon for him to spend his time sat with his toys, providing them with a full-length lecture on whatever topic took his fancy - usually some type of magical creatures, but occasionally something else, for as long as his heart desired. They didn’t mind if he got too excited or talked for too long, or if he repeated himself at any point. They understood that some things were just so interesting, you simply had to say them more than once. 

Even his mother, who was generally more tolerant of his eccentricities, found that particular habit of his tiresome. Particularly when it was combined with his other habit of talking out of turn. But that wasn’t his fault, he just didn’t always know when he was supposed to talk and when he was supposed to be quiet. Particularly when guests were involved, and a whole new set of rules came into play depending on all sorts of factors which Newt didn’t get at all. 

When he finished his lecture, he moved to sit on his bed and look out the window wistfully, watching the hippogriffs in his mother’s paddock behind the house. They were beautiful, and he couldn’t wait to be old enough to be allowed to ride them. He had been introduced to each one under his mother’s careful supervision and had fallen in love instantly. They had seemed to like him too, even despite his horrendously executed curtsey, which both of his parents had given up on making him practice. Perhaps they too saw the similarities between themselves and the youngest Scamander. He was trained in a similar way, forced to act just as his mother wanted and not fully give into his own nature, punished when he got it wrong and occasionally rewarded if he did it particularly well. He thought he would rather be a hippogriff than a little girl, though. Hippogriffs were big and strong and could scare people off, and demanded some level of respect. Free hippogriffs could fly around as they pleased and never let anyone touch them if they didn’t want to. It seemed like such a wonderful life. 

But that was not the life he had. He heard a bell ringing from downstairs, signalling that the house elves had finished preparing dinner, and reluctantly changed into fresh clothes. He would go downstairs and play the part he was supposed to play, and try his best to be the normal daughter that his parents wanted.


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was New Year’s Eve, and Newt was completely and utterly miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's read, left kudos and/or commented on the first chapter! I'd probably be writing trans autistic Newt even if no one else wanted to read it, but it warms my heart that so many people do.
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 8.

It was New Year’s Eve, and Newt was completely and utterly miserable. His parents had invited friends, family, acquaintances, colleagues and those of such social standing that they simply had to be there to all pile into the house to celebrate, and there was barely room to move.

Newt had always despised having guests over. Guests meant wearing awful, itchy dress robes and having his hair pulled up into uncomfortable styles, and not being allowed to do anything fun. Theseus may have told him that he looked pretty like this, but he suspected that his brother was just being nice. Newt never looked pretty, and he didn’t mind that when he wasn’t trying to, but there was something incredibly disheartening about being made to get all dressed up and looking like someone had put a ginger wig and fancy robes on a particularly pale, freckled house elf. Every other girl looked stunning, and though he couldn’t quite work out what had gone so wrong for him, he knew well enough that they had something he didn’t. 

Guests also meant an evening of being forced to look at people in the eyes and somehow listen to them properly at the same time, letting so many people touch him and kiss him, and not even being allowed to rock and shake away the bad feelings to the extent where he would sometimes have to run away and hide so that they didn’t simply burst out of him uncontrollably in front of everyone. The one time that had happened, both of his parents had been furious. He was far too old to be throwing tantrums, they had told him, and he hadn’t known how to explain that he hadn’t been. 

He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse when there were other children there. They played strangely, with rules he didn’t know but which no one ever took the time to tell him, and gave him odd looks whenever he tried to make the games more fun or say something interesting. Some of them simply didn’t like him, although only a few were willing to tell him as much. He liked them better than the ones who pretended otherwise. At least they were honest with him. Theseus always tried to encourage him to play, but he didn’t want to. Generally, he preferred to cling onto his older brother and follow him around like a shadow. For all his teasing, Theseus was still nicer to him than anyone else, and he was familiar. Newt liked familiar. 

But as Theseus grew older, he wanted other friends than his strange little sister. And now that he was preparing to go to Hogwarts in the coming September, Newt remaining by his side every time guests were around was simply not an option. So Newt was forced to leave him alone and watch from afar as he talked animatedly about Hogwarts with those who were also about to start and those who were already attending and home for the holidays.

At just eight-nearly-nine years old, Newt still had two years and eight months to wait before he would be joining Theseus, and he didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. On the one hand, he would get to start learning how to do proper magic, but on the other… A strange castle full of so very many people, where he’d be expected to make friends and fit in didn’t exactly sound like a nice place to be. And for some reason, the idea of being forced into sharing a bedroom, and sharing one with a group of girls, made him feel quite strange. He’d be expected to be one of the girls, and he would have no space to himself, nowhere to get away from people, and just the thought of it filled him with anxiety. If one night long parties were bad, how would he survive a full term of people all around him all the time? 

As if his thoughts hadn’t been bad enough, his Auntie Meredith quite literally dragged him back to reality as she grabbed him by the arm - an action that sent a vile prickling through his body - and pulled him towards a group of strangers. 

“And this one is my niece, Artemis Scamander. Oh, Artemis, you shouldn’t frown so. You’ll get wrinkles,” she lectured, and Newt tried desperately to arrange his face into a normal enough expression. “Quite a strange one, this little madam.” Auntie Meredith cackled, and Newt felt his cheeks growing warm. What had he done wrong this time?

“Goodness me Meredith, she looks like her mother. But haven’t any of you thought to do anything about those freckles yet?” one of the women asked as she grabbed Newt by the chin to inspect his face. “Decent eyes, though, and lovely hair, even if it is a little short, and under that ghastly blush there’s a lovely pale complexion. Pop a little paint on her and she could be married off quite well. A nice pure blood family with a good bit of gold ought to take her.”

He wished they’d stop touching him. He didn’t like people touching him like this, leaving a tingling residue on his skin that took far too long to dissipate, even after they had let go. And all this talk of marriage was incredibly uncomfortable. Perhaps she thought that he was old enough for that type of thing already? “I’m eight,” he told the woman.

“Eh? Is that right, dear?” she said absently, turning his face this way and that. He wanted to pull away, but he knew he’d get in trouble if he tried it. “She might need some etiquette lessons first, of course. Now I’d never speak ill of your family, Meredith, but it seems like she could certainly do with some polishing. Her deportment definitely seems lacking.”

He didn’t know what polishing involved, but he didn’t like the sound of it. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even know what deportment and etiquette e were. It sounded like they were things that he wasn’t good enough at, things that made him lacking, but that didn’t narrow it down in the slightest. That could be almost anything.

“You don’t know the half of it, Antonietta. I’d say it myself, she’s quite terrible. If she keeps on as she is, I don’t think anyone in their right mind would call her a lady.”

This was likely supposed to be a bad thing, but Newt wouldn’t mind that in the slightest. The idea of being called a lady made him feel quite strange, and not in a nice way.

“Well, if her mother is anything to go by, she’ll fill out her corset nicely enough that most gentlemen would be forgiving,” a third woman piped up, and Newt frowned slightly in confusion as the others laughed. 

Were they talking about what he thought they were talking about? For some reason, the prospect made him feel faintly ill. He glanced down at his mercifully flat chest as if expecting this ‘filling out’ to begin immediately, and felt the sudden urge to cover himself up, despite the fact that there was nothing there to hide.

The women moved on to some new topic, but Newt wasn’t listening anymore. He tried to picture himself all grown up, but the image just wasn’t coming properly. He could imagine a strange, red-haired lady who looked a little like his mother, with his green eyes and his freckles, but it wasn’t him. She was an imaginary stranger and the idea that his own slight form could evolve into something like her made his skin crawl. 

Without even realising it, he had wandered away from Auntie Meredith and her friends, and into the corner of the room where the buffet table was set. He scanned the food there and felt his heart sinking. Sometimes, he could convince the house elves to prepare him snacks with good tastes and textures. But tonight it seemed that they had been given strict instructions not to cater to what his father called Newt’s ‘fussiness’. But it wasn’t his fault that some things just felt all wrong in his mouth or made him want to be sick when he ate them. Yet the worse his reaction was, the more his father seemed to want him to eat it. He would simply have to avoid his parents and hope that no one else tried to make him eat anything too unpleasant. Perhaps with all the important guests around, everyone would be distracted and ‘fussiness’ would go unnoticed. Now all he had to do was ignore the hunger until breakfast tomorrow.

He wasn’t hiding, he knew that wasn’t allowed, but he could try to step away from the crowds and hope that no one tried to talk to him for the rest of the evening. This, of course, was a wish that was just as likely to come true as his wish to run away with his mother’s hippogriffs. In fact, his isolation lasted just ten minutes before he was interrupted by the irritating child of one of those important Ministry workers.

“Artemis, why are you sulking in a corner?” Alice asked with a wicked grin. “Don’t you want to play?”

He didn’t, but last time he’d said that, she’d made herself cry and then everyone had shouted at him and then they had all made him cry, and later that day she had come back to laugh at him. To this day, he didn’t understand what he had done wrong.

But the last time he had said yes, he had been dragged out into the garden and she and her friends had wanted him to play some pretend game, but he hadn’t known how and when he got it wrong, they laughed and teased and pulled his hair until he cried, then they laughed some more. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong then, either.

“Are you simple minded?” she asked impatiently, and Newt felt his cheeks turn red. It wasn’t his fault that he needed time to think, that he didn’t know which answer would lead to the least pain and suffering.

“I.. N-no, I’m- I’m not,” he stammered, his eyes cast firmly down towards the ground. 

“Why can’t you speak properly, Artemis? You can’t even get three words out without sounding like an idiot,” she sneered. Why didn’t she like him? Why did she always make him feel like this? 

“I’m sorry.” Was that the right thing to say? People were so confusing and strange and he just wished there was some sort of guide to help him understand what to do to make them like him. His eyes were already filling up with tears, and she hadn’t even done much yet. And of course, she noticed.

“Are you crying?” Of course he was, she could see that. 

He hugged himself tightly, curling in on himself and wishing this night would end. He wanted to go home, but he was already there. Without even realising he was doing it, he rocked his body back and forth in an attempt to make the bad feelings go away.

“Hey, Artemis! Artemis!” When she couldn’t get a good enough response from him, she kicked him in the shin again and again, so hard that the tears started to fall. Oh, his father was going to be so angry. He was too old to be crying like this, to be ruining an evening for everyone around him with his silliness.

“Ha! She’s crying,” she teased, giggling in delight. Why was this funny to her? Newt knew he didn’t always get jokes, but he truly didn’t understand this. She was hurting him, she was making him sad, and she liked it.

His crying had, apparently, triggered some sort of sensor in his brother’s mind, as mere seconds later, Theseus was hovering over Alice’s shoulder.

“Alice, go away,” he said casually, and then his hand was on Newt’s shoulder and he was guiding him away, out into the garden. “Come on, Artemis. Don’t cry…” 

He just shook his head. A curtain of curls fell over his face, hiding him from the world he didn’t belong in. But then Theseus was sitting down on the stone steps that connected the patio to the garden, and helping Newt down beside him and into an embrace.

“Hush, come on… It’s only Alice, and she’s gone now.” His voice was low and soothing and familiar, and his hugs were always tight enough to keep the crawling sensation that sometimes came with physical contact at bay. Almost as if he was physically shielding him. He was still rocking, back and forth in a steady rhythm, but now Theseus was there and he wouldn’t let Alice or Auntie Meredith anyone else make him sad.

Newt took a great, shuddering breath and gripped Theseus’ shirt tight. “I d-don’t l-l-like it,” he sobbed, all the pent up emotions he had been trying to contain all night pouring out of him in a tidal wave of tears.

“I know, I know,” Theseus murmured. Except he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Because he didn’t recoil at bad touches or bad sounds, and he didn’t mind being surrounded by lots of people. He didn’t have that permanent sense of wrongness that Newt had never been able to adequately explain, the sense of wrongness that left him feeling like a passenger in his own body, cut off from the rest of the world as if he weren’t really human.

He rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm, trying to force the bad feelings out of himself. He wanted to be up against a wall, to be hitting his head back, but last time he had done that in front of Theseus, he had yelled and dragged Newt back, and their parents had found out and it had just made everything worse.

There was a hiss and a series of loud bangs from the front garden, which Newt would later recognise as the first fireworks of the evening, and that was simply the final straw. Newt’s sobs escalated. The noise and chaos of it all had him screwing his eyes shut, feeling much like a firework himself. He was exploding, loud and messy and unable to control it, and he couldn’t even think clearly. All he knew was that this was bad, and he needed to get the bad out. 

The rocking wasn’t enough anymore. Without consciously deciding to do it, Newt was grabbing his own hair and tugging hard and while it wasn’t quite the same, it was something. 

“Artemis, what are you doing?” Theseus asked in a tone of unmistakable alarm, but Newt could barely understand his words anymore. He was falling, falling, falling into an inescapable abyss, or perhaps drowning in an endless flood, sinking under the water

“Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad,” he chanted through the tears, a hysterical whisper of vocalised thought that spiralled down with him into the pit of sheer feeling that was simply too much for his small body to contain. Get it out, get it out, get it out. Pull it from his brain, shake it from his body, spit it from his mouth. Anything, anything, just get it out.

“Artemis!” Theseus was grabbing him, pulling his hands away and holding them tight in his own shaking ones, and Newt was screwing his eyes up and letting the tears fall. He pulled his hands away and clamped them over his ears, trying to block out all the sounds that, on a normal day, would just be uncomfortable but tonight were unbearable. 

He didn’t remember how long they had stayed outside, or when he had calmed down enough to allow Theseus to pick him up and carry him up to bed. But one thing he did know, when he was back in control of his own mind, was that he loathed himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter had more hurt and less comfort than I originally intended.
> 
> If you have never had an autistic meltdown, a) you are very lucky and I'm jealous and b) although I've tried to describe how it feels, it's pretty difficult to put into words, especially without using the language we've developed in the past 100 years. Regardless of the time period though, it's not a fun time.
> 
> Also, if you comment with a word or phrase, I'll see if I can write a chapter based on it, since I'm enjoying this snapshot format and would love some more inspiration.


	3. The Dress Robes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t fair. He didn’t even want dress robes, and he definitely didn’t want to be dragged to Diagon Alley when he could be playing at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has come from several prompt comments all in one, including 'accidental magic', 'touch issues' and 'more meltdowns'. 
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 5.

“Artemis, come on!” 

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t even want dress robes, and he definitely didn’t want to be dragged to Diagon Alley when he could be playing at home. But his mother had insisted that he needed to have them properly fitted, and so he was left with no choice but to follow along in her wake, trying to ignore just how busy it was all around him. It wasn’t easy, when sounds and smells were attacking him from all sides, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to run off. Not that there would be anywhere quiet enough in a place like this. If only he could go home, he’d head straight to the alcove in the library, the one right by the little window, where he could look out across the garden and into the village but remain unseen and untouched by all the chaos of the world. He liked it up there. So much so, in fact, that he had occasionally taken to sleeping there under a thick, woollen blanket which he had dragged up from his bedroom on nights when he didn’t want to leave. True, almost all of the books were too hard for him to actually read just yet, but it was still a nice place to hide away, particularly as no one expected to find a five year old in a place like that. Sometimes, their house elf Minnie would even bring him mugs of cocoa or little snacks up, but she never told anyone else where he was. It was the perfect spot for disappearing, and he had even started to make his own book - although it was mostly pictures rather than any actual writing. 

Or perhaps he’d play in the garden. His favourite toy out there was the swing that was technically his brother’s, so high that he would feel like he was flying. The whooshing of the wind in his ears drowned out the rest of the world nicely, and the rhythmic rocking felt simply wonderful. It was like being in his own world, and sometimes he felt that if he let go at just the right moment, he would soar up into the air like an owl taking flight. It was simply wonderful. And if he didn’t think he’d get caught and told off for getting his clothes dirty, he might play in the mud, digging around and marvelling at the bugs he found. Yes, that sounded like a nice way to spend a day, with no one around to bother him and no overwhelming sights or sounds or smells. 

“Artemis!”

At the sound of his name, he looked up from the cobbled street and saw his mother looking exasperated. “Sweetheart, please try to keep up, and actually pay attention. Honestly, I’ll lose you to a daydream one of these days.”

“Sorry, Mummy.” 

He sped up to walk alongside her, but without his daydreaming to occupy his mind, he felt even more overwhelmed by everything. So much so that he was only vaguely aware of his mother speaking, and simply couldn’t understand exactly what she had said.He gave a simple hum of agreement, assuming that would be enough. It usually was for most adults. They never seemed to care much for what he actually had to say, and although his mother was better than most, she still seemed disinterested sometimes. Mostly it was irritating, but there were some times when he was thankful for a lack of attention.

When he was led into an old looking building with mannequins in the window, some of the sound from the outside world was muffled by the closed door. Newt breathed a soft sigh of relief, and immediately found himself drawn to a set of adult wizard’s robes in a deep crimson, which looked as though they would feel wonderful to the touch. He ran his small hand over the sleeve, and found to his delight that it was sleek and yet soft, almost like the fur of a new teddy. 

“Artemis, don’t touch that,” came his mother’s voice, and reluctantly he let go of the sleeve.

“I want that one, Mummy. It feels so nice! Please?”

“Sweetheart, that’s not for little girls. It wouldn’t fit you now, would it?”

“No. But it feels nice!”

“We’ll get you something better, alright? Although not that shade, it won’t suit you.”

“Okay,” he said as he abandoned the robes and approached his mother and the young witch who was standing beside her. He didn’t particularly care about the colour, as long as it felt as lovely as the robes he had been feeling. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind having to wear dress robes if he could distract himself with the pleasant texture. 

The witch who had been talking to his mother gave him a wide smile, and he quickly cast his eyes down. “Hello, Miss Scamander. Your mother says you’re looking for some new dress robes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Artemis is a little shy sometimes. Sweetheart, say hello to Madam Merriwether.”

“Hello, Madam Merriwether. It’s lovely to meet you,” he said dutifully, but he could only bring himself to glance up into her eyes for the briefest moment. Ever since he had been taught to speak, Newt’s parents had insisted that he learn how to greet people properly.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Artemis. Now, could you hold your arms out for me?”

He obeyed, and the tape measure in her hand set to work measuring him in every possible way on its own while Madam Merriwether noted down his measurements on a sheet of parchment. 

Standing completely still for so long was not at all fun. Even when he was playing quietly indoors, he liked to bounce his legs or fidget with something. It was such a habit that he kept slipping back into it, bouncing on the balls of his feet and wiggling his fingers every few seconds, each time earning himself a raised eyebrow from his mother. 

“Artemis, stand still,” she said impatiently after the sixth time she caught him fidgeting. “I am sorry about her, Madam Merriwether.”

“It’s quite alright,” she replied, but the look on her face was the same one that his mother wore when she was frustrated with him. Did that mean that it was fine and she simply used facial expressions differently or that it wasn’t fine and she was lying? People were so confusing sometimes, saying one thing but seeming to mean another. Just in case, Newt focused all his energy on keeping still while the tape measure did its work.

Finally, when the tape measure finished its work, it floated back over to the counter. “You’re quite a slight little thing, Miss Scamander, but you’re tall for your age. I think a nice high waistline with a taffeta belt would suit you, and a nice ankle length skirt. Perhaps a little sophisticated, but you’re never too young to look stylish. Some lovely lace too, I’d say,” Madam Merriwether mused.

“Oh, that does sound lovely,” his mother agreed. “And in green, I think. I know pink and white are currently more fashionable, but that would look dreadful with her hair. And do add some detail to distract from her freckles.”

“Can I have the nice feeling one?” Newt asked, but both women ignored him.

“Hmm, I think some detail on the bodice would do for that. Long sleeves are going out of style for evening wear, but if we take them to just below the elbow, that might hide some of her freckles.”

It seemed like Newt was not going to get much of a say in this, as Madam Merriwether picked out her materials and set to work. 

Immediately, Newt’s skin started to crawl. Her hands were all over him, agonisingly light and leaving the strange, unpleasant residual tingling behind when they moved to new areas. And then was the fabric. It was not the soft, sleek material he had been clutching earlier. It was lightweight and felt rough on his skin, and so incredibly itchy. He wiggled uncomfortably, earning himself a stab in the arm with the pin that Madam Merriwether was using to fix his sleeves in position. Somehow, the pin was less painful than the sensation of fabric on skin.

“Artemis, stay still please,” Madam Merriwether said in a tense voice, a voice that reminded him of his mother’s when he was being told off.

“But I don’t like it,” he whined. He was shaking now, and it was taking all his might not to rip the robes off and scratch himself raw from how horribly wrong it felt.

“Artemis!” his mother frowned. “Do as you’re told. These will be lovely once they’re fitted, you just have to be patient.”

“I don’t like it!” There was no way to be clearer, he couldn’t wear these. He flapped his hands in rhythm with his compulsive shaking, the agitation needed an outlet, but that wasn’t enough, so he whined, his eyes screwing up, but that didn’t work either.

“Artemis!”

Words were so hard. He couldn’t reply, not until the wrongness went away.

“Artemis, stop it!”

More hands were on him now, gripping him by the arm and pressing the bad fabric further against him. He didn’t know if the pressure made it worse or better. It was too much, he wanted his blanket and his teddy and his quiet hideaway, and he wanted those dress robes off. But all he could manage to say was “I don’t like it!” as tears started to fall from his eyes.

“Behave yourself and stop this silly tantrum now, or you’ll get no dinner tonight.”

But it wasn’t a tantrum. He couldn’t stop, not until the feeling went away. It was bad, so bad, and it was as if he needed to escape his own body just to survive. It felt like an explosion inside him, like a fire that was burning and needed out.

And that was when it happened. Both of the women screamed, and his mother let go of him as if she had been burned. Newt’s eyes opened in alarm. He was surrounded by flame, no, he was aflame! But somehow, inexplicably, it didn’t hurt. He felt safe and warm, but the dress robes were turning to ash all around him and falling to the floor. The fire seemed to have taken away the unpleasant residue left on his skin, leaving him feeling as fresh and clean as if he had just emerged from the bath. 

He stood on the platform, the pile of ashes at his feet, and looked up at the two adults before him. They were both staring at him in shock, but they couldn’t possibly be as surprised as he felt. Had he done that, without realising? He had done magic by accident before, tiny things that barely counted like making doors close when he wanted quiet or floating down instead of falling when he lost his footing climbing up a tree, but never anything like this. 

And yet far from looking pleased, his mother looked angry and something else, an emotion Newt couldn’t place. Had he done bad magic? The tears were welling in his eyes again, although for completely different reasons this time.

“We’re going. Madam Merriwether, if you could do the best you can with her measurements and send us the robes, I would be willing to pay extra for your time. Artemis, come here.” Her voice was cold, so cold that he wanted to shrink down into himself and hide away. But he couldn’t. He stepped down and shuffled over to her, his eyes focusing on her shoes rather than her face. He didn’t need to see her anger. But he felt it, a sharp strike across the head, a punishment he surely deserved, even though he hadn’t meant to do anything wrong.

He couldn’t stop his silent crying the whole way home, not until he was up in bedroom, having been told to stay there until morning and that he wouldn’t be fed that evening. The only saving grace of the whole situation was that he was left alone, even though he was so exhausted that he couldn’t fully enjoy his solitude, and ended up falling asleep still in his clothes.

When he awoke, it was dark outside, and there was a glass of milk and a sandwich on his bedside table, with a note he could only just manage to read. 

_ Temmie. Mummy said you weren’t allowed dinner because you did magic but I know you didn’t mean to so I got Minnie to make you food. Don’t tell anyone. Love Theseus _

Theseus, at least, could forgive him for being bad. Newt hadn’t realised just how hungry he was until he started to eat, but it seemed that magic had taken a lot out of him. Or perhaps it was the crying that had drained him so completely. Comforted and fed, Newt settled back down on his bed with his blankets around him and his teddy in his arms, and slipped back into sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you have a prompt (word, phrase or just any suggestion), leave it in the comments and I'll see if I can work it into a future chapter.


	4. The Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theseus discarded the book he had been reading, scooped Newt up in his arms and pulled him onto his lap. Even though Newt was only two years younger, he was slender and light enough for his brother to lift him without any difficulty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the minor hiatus, I've had a mix of good and bad life stuff going on that's taken up a fair bit of my writing time, but hopefully things are going to settle down by the end of the month.
> 
> This chapter is based mainly on my own ideas, but also including the prompt for 'cuddles'. In this one, Newt is 8.

It had been an uncharacteristically cold week for the very end of January. True, it was still winter, but no one had expected the snow to return for an encore performance, particularly not one quite so spectacular.

Newt couldn’t decide if he liked the snow or not. On the one hand, it was beautiful. On the other, he wasn’t supposed to play outside when the weather was this bad, and he loved to play outside. The only benefit was that, for once, Theseus had the same restriction placed upon him. 

Even inside the house, though, it was cold. Newt had taken to walking around constantly wrapped up in a scarf and a thick, knitted jumper that he had inherited from his brother when Theseus outgrew it. It was rare for their parents to give Newt second-hand clothing, but it had been decided that, on this one occasion, he could be allowed to wear clothing not designed for little girls so long as it kept him from shivering his way through the winter. However aggravating they found it, Mr and Mrs Scamander had already discovered that getting Newt to actually like his clothes was a difficult task, and if he was willing to wear a jumper that they already owned, there was nothing to be gained from fighting it. So they had permitted Newt to roam around in a slightly too large jumper, definitely too large scarf, and thick tights that kept him cosy and content.

Well. Mostly content.

“Theseus,” he whined, tugging on his brother’s sleeve. “Theseus, what time’s Mummy getting home?”

Their parents had gone out for the evening to some Ministry event which neither Theseus nor Newt cared about, leaving their two children in the care of Minnie the house elf, and of course, each other. 

Theseus discarded the book he had been reading, scooped Newt up in his arms and pulled him onto his lap. Even though Newt was only two years younger, he was slender and light enough for his brother to lift him without any difficulty. “Come here, you. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but she said it would probably be after our bedtime. You’ll see her tomorrow, okay?”

“I don’t want to go to bed, then.”

“What, not ever? Are you never going to sleep again?” 

Newt frowned at him. “I mean it. I’m not tired and I don’t want to.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Theseus seemed to be trying not to laugh. “Temmie, you look exhausted. You can’t stay up all night just to see Mummy and Daddy when they get home.”

“Yes I can,” he insisted, squirming a little on his brother’s lap to get comfortable.

“No you can’t. And sit still, Miss Wriggle Bottom.”

“Can.”

“Can’t. And even if you could, you won’t get a story if you refuse to go to bed.”

“Can it be a special story?” he asked hopefully. Theseus always told the best stories. He was better even than Beedle the Bard, and Newt really loved his collection of Beedle stories. 

“Ah, so you’ll promise to go to bed if you get a special story?” Theseus asked with the crooked smile that could always make Newt smile back.

“And if I get hot chocolate.”

“I think we can do that. Minnie!” 

With a crack, the little house elf appeared in front of them and bowed deeply. “You called, Master Theseus, Miss Artemis? Are you needing something from Minnie?” she asked in a high pitched squeak, her round eyes fixed on the pair of them.

“Thank you, Minnie. Could you bring us some hot chocolate, please?” Theseus asked, and the elf bowed again.

“Certainly, Master. Minnie will bring Master Theseus and Miss Artemis hot chocolate right away!” she squeaked, then disappeared with another crack. 

“I wish I could appapparate.”

“Apparate,” Theseus corrected gently. “And when you’re older, you can get lessons.”

“But Minnie doesn’t need lessons.”

“Minnie’s a house elf, it’s different for wizards.”

“If I could appapp- apparate, I’d go all over the whole world.”

“When you’re seventeen, you can.”

Thinking of himself as a seventeen year old was kind of weird, in all honesty. He couldn’t picture an adult version of himself, no matter how hard he tried. But the idea of being all grown up and going wherever he wanted sounded incredible, and he knew he would love it just as much as a grown up as he would have as a child. “What will I be like when I’m seventeen?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Artemis. You’ll be almost out of Hogwarts by then, isn’t that strange? And you’ll look like a proper lady. But I think you’ll still be the same inside, in the end. You’ll still be my strange little sister.”

“Do I have to be a proper lady?” he asked with a slight frown. That didn’t sound fun at all. Every formal event he’d ever been to or heard about, and every lesson in proper behaviour he had ever been given had taught him that behaving like a proper lady was no fun. 

Theseus laughed softly. “I suppose not. But you’ll look like a proper lady, even if you’re a mischievous, improper one.” But that didn’t sound fun either. He was imagining himself looking like his mother, and it was strange in a very bad way.

A sharp crack drew him out of his thoughts as Minnie appeared in front of them, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with cream and little shavings of chocolate. “Thank you, Minnie,” he said with a wide grin as he took one of the mugs from her.

“It is no trouble, Miss Artemis! Minnie hopes you like it!”

Newt took a long sip and nodded enthusiastically. “It’s very good!” He bounced up and down a little, and if Theseus hadn’t kept a grip on him, he would almost certainly have spilled most of his drink down his front.

“You have a moustache, Tem!” Theseus giggled, and Newt licked it off his upper lip with a grin. 

“It’s a tasty moustache!”

They both laughed, and Theseus took a sip of his own drink, gaining his own cream moustache. Newt took one look at him and broke into more giggles. “You’ve got one too!”

Theseus grinned and stuck out his tongue, then licked the cream away. “Mm… You’re right, these are very tasty moustaches.”

They sat in comfortable quiet for a few moments, Newt curling up slightly in his brother’s lap and Theseus holding him tight. He always knew how best to hold Newt so that he felt warm and loved, and as if the whole world was just that little bit safer. The combination of the warm drink and the cuddle was helping combat the cold of winter, as if he was in a bubble of comfort. Despite his insistence that he would not go to bed, he could easily have fallen asleep there if he’d wanted to.

He drained his drink and settled back against Theseus’s chest, his thumb straying towards his mouth. “Can I have a story now?” he asked, and Theseus gave him a little squeeze. 

“Of course, Tem. Now, it’s a special story, so what kind do you want?”

“The one with the Prince and his dragon!” Those were always his favourites. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was in love with the Prince or wanted his life, but the stories Theseus made up about him were always so wonderful.

Theseus chuckled and kissed him on the top of the head. “Alright, Prince story it is. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a Prince who was very brave and very handsome. He was going to rule over the whole land one day, but he didn’t want to take on such a boring, serious job without having a few adventures first. The Prince and his pet dragon travelled all across the world, from the sandy deserts to the snowy mountains.” Every Prince story started the same way, a phrase which Newt could repeat word for word already.

“But one particular day they would always remember was when they landed in the jungle. The Prince had decided that he wanted to see a real-life tiger, and the dragon had promised that he wouldn’t eat any of the nice ones, because he was a good dragon and he wanted his Prince to be happy. But if any of the tigers were nasty, he would gobble them all up in one bite.

“The Prince and the dragon walked and walked, and they saw monkeys and panthers and occamies, but no tigers were in sight. ‘Perhaps they’re afraid of us?’ the dragon wondered, but-”

“Do the voice! I like the voices!” Newt interrupted, and Theseus laughed softly.

“Alright, alright, little one. Now, don’t interrupt, it’s just about to get good!”

“Sorry. Carry on.”

Theseus dropped his voice to a rough and yet melodic growl as he spoke the dragon’s words. “‘Maybe they’re afraid of us?’” he repeated, and Newt giggled. “But the Prince didn’t think so. Tigers are big and brave and don’t run away from dragons, especially not little ones like his dragon.”

“How big is the dragon?” Newt asked, and Theseus raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, erm… This dragon is bigger than a tiger but smaller than an elephant.”

“How big is an elephant?”

“Very big.”

“Bigger than Uncle Daedalus?”

Theseus snorted a laugh, although Newt couldn’t see why it was funny. “Oh, much bigger.”

“Okay. Why were all the tigers gone?”

“Let me finish the story, and you’ll find out.”

“Okay. I’ll be quiet,” Newt promised, and Theseus gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Good girl. So, the Prince knew that the tigers were not afraid of them, but they were still nowhere to be found. But they didn’t give up looking. They looked all over the jungle until they found a tiny baby tiger, curled up in a ball. She was very small and very scared, but the Prince crouched down and offered her his hand, and she allowed him to scratch her ears. ‘Where’s your family?’ the Prince asked, and the baby tiger got shakily to her feet to lead the Prince and the dragon deeper into the jungle.

“With the tiger cub to guide them, the Prince and the dragon made quick work of the journey, and there they saw a group of tigers, all trapped in nets. The poor tigers looked so very sad that the Prince simply had to set them free with a wave of his wand. But the tigers were scared, and the Prince looked like the man who had trapped them. They growled and approached him with bared teeth, angry at their captors.”

Newt gasped, his eyes wide in horror and started to well with tears. “No! Theseus, he doesn’t hurt them, does he? And they don’t hurt him?” 

“Hey, it’s okay!” Theseus soothed, rubbing Newt’s back to soothe him. “It’s okay, I promise! The tigers may have been approaching the Prince as though they wanted to hurt him, but the Prince was very clever and he knew that the tigers didn’t mean him any harm. He would be scared too if he had been trapped like that. But then the baby tiger stepped forwards and spoke to the other tigers. ‘It’s okay!’,” Theseus put on a high, squeaky voice that made Newt let out a nervous giggle. “And the other tigers looked from the baby to the Prince and the dragon, and they knew that if they’d wanted to hurt a tiger, they would have already done it, so they calmed down and instead of hurting the Prince, the Mummy tiger licked him on the cheek instead.”

“So they were okay?”

“They were all okay,” Theseus promised. “And when the bad men that had trapped the tigers returned, the Prince trapped them in magical nets instead and took them to the aurors so they got in lots of trouble, the tigers lived happily in their jungle, and were never trapped in nets again, and the Prince and his dragon went off on more adventures, happy now they’d seen and saved some tigers.”

Newt smiled and cuddled up against Theseus’ neck. “I like that ending,” he murmured. “And I like the Prince a lot.”

“Mm, I thought so. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up marrying someone like him someday,” Theseus said with a soft, teasing smile. 

Newt laughed and turned faintly pink. “I want to be the one going on adventures, though!” Although he didn’t think he’d mind it if he ended up married to someone like that, so long as he didn’t have to stay at home and behave himself.

“Aww, does Temmie have a crush? Maybe I should come up with some stories about a beautiful Princess joining our Prince on his adventures?”

“I don’t!” Newt whined - a complete lie - and shoved his brother gently. “And I like it how it is.”

Theseus laughed and shook his head. “Sure, whatever you say, Tem. I guess I’ll just enjoy this for now, before you grow up and I have to start fighting off all the admirers that aren’t good enough for you.”

Newt’s blush deepened at that. He couldn’t picture himself having any admirers, much less enough for Theseus to have to fight any of them off. Sure, he had occasionally noticed pretty boys - and, on occasion, pretty girls - but he couldn’t picture a single one of them liking him back. “That’s weird,” he announced, and Theseus ruffled his hair.

“Honestly, I’m glad you think that. Now, come on. It’s bedtime.”

Newt pouted, but he was getting tired and he had promised. “Okay,” he groaned, but he didn’t particularly want to get up. “Carry me?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, alright,” Theseus said with a roll of his eyes, but he was smiling. He scooped Newt up easily, cradling him in his arms as though he was even smaller than he was. Newt may be a small, skinny thing, but his brother was still impressively strong. In fact, he was just generally impressive. 

“Now then, little one,” Theseus said as they reached Newt’s bedroom. “Do you want to change into your nightclothes, or is it too cold?”

“Too cold,” Newt mumbled. He had no desire to remove all those lovely warm layers, especially if he wouldn’t get in trouble for keeping them on.

“Okay. Straight to bed, then,” Theseus agreed, and deposited Newt on top of the covers. “Have you got Teddy Bear?”

Newt pulled him out from his spot by the pillow and hugged him to his chest with a nod.

“Perfect. Now, I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight,” Newt murmured as he shifted under the blankets and settled down. 

“Goodnight, Temmie,” Theseus said, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. His brother may only be two years older, but he acted much older sometimes in the way he took care of Newt. Or perhaps Newt acted younger than his own age, and needed more care. Either way, it was nice. Theseus was all the best parts of a friend and a parent in one in the way he looked after Newt. Or at least, he assumed so. He’d never really had a friend other than Theseus. But no matter what, he knew that he would always have his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably one of the most fluffy ones I've got planned, but if you'd like more fluff (or you have any other requests of any kind), I'm still taking prompts for this story! These can be words, phrases or ideas, whatever you want.


	5. The Hippogriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt wasn’t supposed to have been watching when Theseus was allowed to meet the hippogriffs for the first time. He was too young, both his parents had been very clear about that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is not a prompt fill, but I got this idea in my head and I just had to write it. Rest assured all the cool ideas I've said I'll write are on the way!
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 4.

Newt wasn’t supposed to have been watching when Theseus was allowed to meet the hippogriffs for the first time. He was too young, both his parents had been very clear about that fact. He was four-almost-five and Theseus was seven, and that meant that Theseus was allowed to meet the hippogriffs properly and he wasn’t. Of course, he’d seen them from a distance out of the windows, but he’d never been allowed down into the stables where they were kept. The stables were for adults and, now, his older brother. But it wasn’t fair! The hippogriffs had always seemed so pretty and he was desperate to get near enough to look closely, to touch. So he crept out of the house and followed his mother and brother to the bottom of the garden, then hid behind a tree to listen. 

He was, unfortunately, too short to see over the fences and to climb this particular tree, but he could still listen. 

“-and we always bow or curtsey, as a sign of respect,” came his mother’s voice, crisp and clear in the cool March air. “Don’t break eye contact and don’t blink too much, and he should bow back. Don’t move until he does.”

There was a pause, presumably while Theseus bowed to the hippogriff. Then a gasp.

“He bowed, Mummy! Did you see?”

“Yes, Theseus. Very good. Now, you may approach him. He’ll accept petting so long as you aren’t rough with him, and don’t pull his feathers. Hippogriffs are very fond of having nice coats and won’t take kindly to it being ruined. And of course, don’t insult or mock him. If he starts to look agitated, move away slowly.”

In a way, those same rules could be applied to Newt himself. He would very much like it if people were a little more gentle to him and didn’t tease him, and moved away when it was all too much. The eye contact, however, could definitely be skipped over for him. That was another confusing part of life. Which eye were you supposed to look at, or was it meant to be both at once, and how were you supposed to listen if you were so busy trying to make sure your eyes were in the right place?

“Wow…” It was Theseus’ voice again, barely audible but full of such admiration that Newt ached to get in there and see for himself. 

It didn’t even sound like the hippogriffs were scary. Yes, they might be dangerous if you mistreated them or ignored them when they were getting upset, but Newt had no intention of doing either of those things. Perhaps, if the hippogriffs were sort of like him, they could even be friends. His mother had laughed when he’d talked about being friends with Minnie, their younger house elf, and said that it wasn’t possible to make friends with another species, but Newt didn’t see why not. If he liked Minnie and she liked him, then were they not friends?

It didn’t matter what she said. Newt had made up his mind - he was going to be friends with the hippogriffs.

“Can I ride him?” Theseus asked, but his mother laughed.

“Darling, not yet. You’re still a little too young, and I’m not sure he quite trusts you enough.”

Newt had watched his mother ride one once, from the library window. It hadn’t seemed much more dangerous than riding a broomstick, but then again he was told he was too young for that too. 

When Theseus had apparently had his fill of the hippogriffs, Newt watched him walking back up to the house and out of sight. Now that he knew the rules, there was nothing but a magically locked gate to prevent him from meeting his new friends. A magically locked gate which he wasn’t actually sure how to open, seeing as he didn’t have a wand. 

But as it happened, he didn’t need a wand - the gate opened the moment he touched it. He might not understand his magic but it seemed like his magic understood him and how badly he wanted to this. And there, standing tall and proud above him, were the hippogriffs. They were stunning, quite possibly the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. But they were a lot bigger than he had imagined, so much so that he had to crane his neck upwards to look them in the eyes. And when he bowed, his head was level with their knees. 

He probably should have curtsied, now he thought of it. Would it upset them, seeing a little girl bow instead of curtsey? He thought about correcting himself and moving into a curtsey, but then the hippogriff in front of him, a deep grey one with flecks of white in its feathers, bowed deeply, and Newt beamed. He straightened up again and approached the hippogriff slowly, his green eyes fixed intently on their yellow ones, even as the gate slammed shut behind him. The other hippogriffs in the enclosure nodded at him and walked away, leaving Newt to give his undivided attention to the grey hippogriff. If he remembered how his mother had described the herd correctly, this one was a female called Ivy, and his mother was hoping that she would breed soon. Newt wasn’t exactly sure how breeding worked, but he knew that meant there would be baby hippogriffs soon. Perhaps they would be a closer height to him, and maybe he could be friends with them too. 

“Hello, Ivy,” Newt murmured, reaching up to pet the hippogriff’s side. He would have liked to pet her head and feel the longer feathers there, but she was simply too tall, so he settled for petting her side, just under her enormous wing. “I’m Artemis. You know my Mummy and my brother Theseus.”

The hippogriff tilted her head at him, then bent low, as if bowing again, so low that her beak was just above Newt’s head. “May I?” he asked hesitantly, but there was no malice in the creature’s eyes. Somehow, he just knew this wasn’t a trick. He reached out and stroked Ivy’s beak. It was wonderful, one of those lovely textures that just felt nice, particularly alongside the silky softness of her feathers. “Oh, you’re pretty,” he cooed. “You’re so lovely. Would you like to be my friend?”

Ivy didn’t make a sound, but Newt felt like she would like that. He nestled against her neck with a contented hum, his fingers carding gently through her feathers. After a few moments, she made a faint sound, then bent her front legs and dropped down towards the ground, her head tilted up at him. 

“Do you want me to sit on your back?” he asked hesitantly. Not even Theseus had been allowed to ride her, although Newt felt as though he could do it. Hippogriffs were so friendly, how could anyone think of them as dangerous? She may be much bigger than him, but so were most people, and he was always told to be less scared of people.

The only trouble was his height. Even with Ivy bending down to allow him to climb up, he couldn’t reach. But he had never been one to give up that easily. In the corner of the enclosure there was a shed, perhaps it contained something he could climb on? “Hold on,” he murmured, then rushed off to investigate.

As it turned out, the shed mostly contained huge tubs full of feed that were far too heavy for him to drag out and use as a stool. But on the floor by the door there was an almost empty tub, and if he put all his effort into it, he could just manage to push it out and over to Ivy, who was waiting with a bored and vaguely haughty expression on her face. “I’m sorry, Ivy,” he said softly and ran his hand over her feathers gently. She seemed placated, and Newt took that at his cue to climb up onto the tub and onto her back.  

Once he was seated, his legs barely able to hang over the side, Ivy straightened up and Newt had to wrap his arms around her neck to stay seated. He was careful not to pull her feathers but he gripped tight all the same - it was a little strange to be this high up, but people rode hippogriffs all the time. True, he hadn’t even been allowed on a broomstick yet, but this was probably easier. He didn’t have to control anything, just hold on. 

Once he was settled, Ivy spread her wings wide and pushed off from the ground. The wind whipped his hair back out of his face and whistled in his ears as he felt Ivy’s wings beat behind him as he flattened himself against her neck. “That’s so good, you’re doing such a good job!” he yelled, a smile spreading wide across his face. This was wonderful! Flying felt fantastic and even though it was his first time, he felt so at home on her back as she soared above the garden. 

He wasn’t quite sure how long he was up in the air, but the next thing he knew, a shrill shriek pulled him sharply out of his joy. “Artemis!”

Below him, his mother was standing in the gateway. Even from this far away, he could see her fury blazing, and it seemed that Ivy could too, as she swooped back down and landed neatly in front of her. “Get away from her, Artemis! What in Merlin’s name are you doing? How did you even get into the enclosure?”

Too many questions were always confusing. Which one was he supposed to answer first? “I was flying and I got in through the gate.”

“Don’t be smart with me, Madam! You know you’re not allowed in there!” 

He wasn’t trying to be smart, he’d just wanted to answer her questions. Even without words, Ivy had been much easier to understand. “But I just wanted to make friends! Theseus got to see them and I wanted to too!”

“Theseus is older and I was with him! You could have got yourself hurt!” He couldn’t quite tell what his mother was feeling, but she seemed very emotional and he didn’t think it was in a good way. He didn’t like it.

“I’m not hurt! Ivy let me pet her and fly and now we’re friends!” Newt insisted, pouting up at his mother. He didn’t want to leave, not when he was so happy to have a new friend and so elated from the flight. Particularly when his new friend was so very soft and nice to him.

“Artemis, don’t argue with me. Get off and get inside the house, now.”

It wasn’t fair. And apparently, Ivy seemed to agree. She stamped a foot and sent his mother a haughty look that made her step back and show the hippogriff her palms. 

“Ivy, that is my daughter. You cannot adopt her. You’ll have your own young soon, but she is mine,” she said in a cold, calm voice. “Artemis, come here now.”

But he quite liked the idea of being a hippogriff. Maybe he could become one if he stayed here long enough, and when Ivy had her babies they would be his little siblings, and he could look after them like Theseus looked after him. But he loved his Mummy and Daddy and Theseus too, and he didn’t want to leave them, even if they were all cross with him. No, he had to go back to the house. “I’ll come back and see you, Ivy,” he promised, his small hand brushing over her feathers one final time. She seemed mildly affronted by this, but she bent down to let him climb off anyway. 

“No, you won’t. Not until you’re older, at least. You might have been fine this time, but you should never, ever do that again!” It looked like his mother was about to cry, but Newt just didn’t understand it. He’d had a nice time, why was she upset? Almost as if to confuse him further, she slapped him over the top of the head and then crouching down to pull him into a tight hug. It was so strange - hippogriffs definitely made more sense than people. 

“I’m sorry, Mummy,” he murmured, and he really was. He hadn’t meant to upset her. But he wasn’t in the least bit sorry for making friends with Ivy, and he knew he’d come back to the enclosure as soon as he could, even if he had to sneak down in the middle of the night just to see his new friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to leave more prompts, I am still definitely taking them and am working on the ideas all you lovely people have already given me.


	6. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Platform Nine and Three Quarters seemed somehow even busier and louder than it had done the past two years when Newt emerged through the barrier. But he was a Hogwarts student now, and he couldn’t act strangely, not in front of the people who needed to like him, and he knew by now that covering his ears, rocking and shaking were all strange. He had to pretend that all the commotion didn’t bother him, even though he couldn’t understand how anyone could find it tolerable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Newt is 11.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters seemed somehow even busier and louder than it had done the past two years when Newt emerged through the barrier. But he was a Hogwarts student now, and he couldn’t act strangely, not in front of the people who needed to like him, and he knew by now that covering his ears, rocking and shaking were all strange. He had to pretend that all the commotion didn’t bother him, even though he couldn’t understand how anyone could find it tolerable.

A moment later, Theseus appeared beside him and gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder. He was already wearing his Gryffindor scarf and a wide smile, and Newt couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy. Theseus was always so confident, so good with people, and he never seemed bothered by loud noises or crowds. That was why he was in Gryffindor, and Newt definitely wouldn’t be. He wasn’t sure whether he’d fit in any of the houses, actually. He wasn’t particularly brave or smart or ambitious or dedicated. He was just a strange child who didn’t know how to talk to people and only really felt at home on his own, or with the hippogriffs or his kneazle, or any other non-human creature, really. He wished he could let Diana out, but she liked crowds about as much as he did, and he didn’t want to lose her right before they set off. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have her at all. She looked enough like a regular cat for him to get away with it so long as nobody looked too closely, but he was certainly pushing his luck by bringing Athena, his owl, along too. And causing a scene wasn’t a particularly good idea regardless, not when he needed to try and fit in. But still, it would be nice to have that comfort that came from petting Diana.

As if reading his mind, Theseus gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, Artemis. I guarantee, all the first years are nervous.” Somehow, Newt didn’t think they were nervous in quite the same way, but it was still a comfort to him. Perhaps there would be someone, even if it was just one person, who would want to be his friend.

He had wanted to sit with Theseus on the train, but his brother had told him that he’d do better to try and make friends, to find a carriage with other first years and get to know them. Besides, Theseus had his own friends who he wanted to go and see and he didn’t need his baby sister clinging to him for the whole journey. To his credit, he stayed with Newt all the way until the train was out of the station, but then one of Theseus’s friends poked his head around the compartment door and Theseus was giving him a quick hug, before leaving him alone while he went off to join the other third years. 

At least now, alone in a compartment, he could let Diana out of her cage. She stretched out with a disgruntled meow. It was, after all, an affront to be locked away for so long. Newt knew that he wouldn’t like it, so he could hardly expect Diana to accept it without complaint. If he had his way, he would let her roam free all the time. At least at Hogwarts, she would get to explore the grounds with him. That was something he was looking forward to, certainly. And he was looking forward to his classes too. He’d finally get to do real magic, perform real, intentional spells, rather than simply having his magic burst from him in moments of strong emotion. He’d get to be a proper wizard at last. Except that wasn’t quite right. A proper witch, that was what he should be thinking. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt weird about the idea of being an adult witch, but he still couldn’t quite work out why his mind had gone to wizard before witch. Or rather, he had a vague idea, but he knew it was stupid and ridiculous and didn’t make any sense, so he didn’t consider that idea any more than he had to. 

He was rubbing Diana’s belly when the compartment door opened, and a pair of girls around his age appeared. One was dark haired, the other a blonde who he vaguely recognised from some of the boring parties of his father’s colleagues. “Hi,” the brunette said with a shy smile. “Is anyone sat here? Apart from your cat, I mean.”

For a moment, Newt’s face lit up. Maybe he could make friends on the train, like Theseus had said. She had seen Diana and maybe she’d want to pet her too, and they could talk about magical creatures and be friends. But then the blonde girl spoke, and Newt’s heart sank.

“Oh, we don’t want to sit there,” she said in a tone of pure derision, and Newt remembered her properly from her voice. Her name was Alice, and she had never liked him. “That’s Artemis Scamander. She’s creepy.”

“She doesn’t seem creepy,” the brunette said uncertainly, but Alice shook her head. 

“I’m not gonna sit with Artemis Scamander. If you knew her, you’d think she was creepy too.”

The brunette looked between the pair of them, but slipped out of the door along with Alice, leaving Newt alone and definitely not holding back tears. Would Alice do this to every other first year, until Newt had no chance of friendship at all? It wasn’t as if he had a natural advantage when it came to talking to people. If she told everyone that he was creepy, they would see every unusual thing about him as a sign of creepiness, and he’d never have a friend.

As if sensing his emotions, which she probably was, Diana climbed onto his lap and nuzzled up against him. “You don’t think I’m creepy, do you, sweetheart?” But she was a kneazle, she wouldn’t want to sit with him if he was too creepy, surely. 

A few minutes passed before the compartment door slid open again to reveal a girl with dark skin and curly hair, tied up in a bun. It looked nice. Maybe he should put his hair up like that sometimes. It was so inconvenient when he wore it down around his face, and the elegant styles his mother was so fond of took so much time to do and weren’t much better if he wanted to actually do anything. The girl didn’t ask to sit - she just took the seat opposite him and gave him an appraising look. “I’m Leta Lestrange,” she said. “Are you a first year too?”

Newt stared at her for a moment. This wasn’t how most people spoke to him, but he quite liked it. She was direct. “Yes, I am. I’m Artemis Scamander. And this is Diana. She’s a kneazle.”

“Aren’t kneazles pests?”

“No. They’re lovely, and they’re very intelligent. They make great pets,” he explained with a wide smile.

“Oh. It just looks like a weird cat.”

“They’re related to cats, but they’re actually really magical and very loyal and loving.”

“It’s weird, but alright.”

“Her name is Diana. Do you have a pet?” That was how conversations and friendship usually went, wasn’t it? Perhaps he could be Leta’s friend, if he managed to make a good impression on her before anyone could tell her that he was creepy. 

“My family has an owl, but I don’t.”

“You should get one. Or a lot. I love animals,” Newt said enthusiastically. 

“Maybe,” she said, but it sounded like it could be the kind of ‘maybe’ people often gave him that actually meant ‘no’. Perhaps she was just humouring him, too polite to tell him to shut up, despite her earlier directness. Best to change the subject then, onto something better. But what did normal people talk about? He wished he had thought to ask Theseus before he had gone off with the other third years. By some stroke of luck, Leta spoke before he had reached a conclusion. “So, Artemis. What house are you going to be in?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a faint shrug. Was he supposed to know for sure?

“I’m almost certainly going to be in Slytherin. Pretty much all my family have been Slytherins for generations,” Leta said confidently. Newt hadn’t known family affected housing.

“My brother’s a Gryffindor, and my mother was too, but my father was in Ravenclaw, so I don’t know which one I’ll be in.”

“You could be neither,” Leta said with a shrug. “You could be a Slytherin, like me.” Did that mean that Leta wanted to be his friend? “Or maybe Hufflepuff, I suppose, but you seem too interesting.”

“I suppose I’ll see when I get there,” he said, although privately, he couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t see a problem with Hufflepuff. He’d actually quite like it, all things considered. Hufflepuffs were loyal and kind and hard-working. Being considered those things would be an honour, now he thought about it. Perhaps even more than being a Gryffindor would. 


	7. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legs shaking, and not in a pleasant way, Newt made his way up to the stool and sat down, ducking his head slightly so as not to have to confront just how many people were looking at him, all at once. It was almost a relief when the Hat slipped down over his ears, covering his eyes. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the last chapter, so Newt is 11 here too.

As the students filed into Great Hall,  Newt’s heart was hammering uncomfortably in his chest and his palms were horribly sweaty. But he wasn’t scared, especially if Leta asked. At least he didn’t have to go first. Most people would be bored by the time they got to the letter S. But that didn’t matter because he wasn’t scared. And he definitely wasn’t having to focus on preventing himself rocking, or shaking, or tugging on his hair.

All the same, he looked over at the Gryffindor table and caught Theseus’s eye from across the hall. His brother beamed and gave him a thumbs up, before turning his attention back to the front of the hall.

The auburn haired man who had introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore placed an old hat on a stool, and stepped back. This must be the Sorting Hat. Theseus had told him all about it, but that didn’t quench the queasy feeling inside him as he thought about what might happen when he put the hat on. What if it said he wasn’t good enough for any of the houses? What if it saw things in him that he didn’t like? What if it, too, thought that he was strange?

A rip near the brim of the Hat opened, and it began to sing. A few of the other first years looked startled - probably those coming from muggle families, or simply those who hadn’t been told much about Hogwarts before. But Newt knew about the tradition, and instead tried to focus what little attention he had to spare on listening to the Hat’s song.

“Almost a thousand years ago,   
Four wizards hatched a plan,   
‘We’ll teach young wizards all we know’,   
And Hogwarts School began.

“Each founder picked their students,   
By the virtues in their head,   
And now, with my great prudence,   
I sort you in their stead.

“Brave Gryffindor selected,   
Those whose nerves were strong,   
If you a daring spirit,   
In his house you belong.

“Slytherin - now he preferred,   
Those who had great ambition,   
And to those students he instilled,   
Our great wizarding tradition.

“Those taken in by Ravenclaw,   
Were those of thought and wit,   
If your intelligence is true,   
In Ravenclaw you’ll fit.

“And Hufflepuff would always take,   
Those who were kind and true,   
If you’re loyal and hard-working,   
Perhaps this could be you?

“So put me on now - I don’t bite,   
And I’ll take a look and see,   
What I might find inside your mind,   
And where your home shall be.”

The Hat fell silent and the whole hall burst into applause. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward again with a roll of parchment, and started to call names. Newt watched as each student stepped forward to be sorted, occasionally recognising a name from the families he had been forced to interact with as a child, but he wasn’t overly interested. He was more concerned about his own Sorting, and perhaps Leta’s. That being said, he did vaguely glance up as Flint, Alice, was called up and, after a minute’s deliberation, placed in Slytherin.

Soon after came Leta’s turn. As she had predicted, the Hat placed her in Slytherin too, after just a few moments. 

There were fewer and fewer students left now, and Newt knew it must be his turn soon as Robertson, Basil, was pronounced a Ravenclaw. Just as he suspected, the next words out of Professor Dumbledore’s lips were “Scamander, Artemis.”

Legs shaking, and not in a pleasant way, Newt made his way up to the stool and sat down, ducking his head slightly so as not to have to confront just how many people were looking at him, all at once. It was almost a relief when the Hat slipped down over his ears, covering his eyes. Almost.

“Interesting,” the Hat mused, a little voice in Newt’s ear that he assumed the rest of the hall couldn’t hear. “There’s an awful lot in here, much more than anyone else sees. Even you don’t see it all.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. 

But the Hat just chuckled. “Oh, not bad, not bad at all. You have an awful lot of potential, you could do such great things.”

Was he going to be in Slytherin, like Leta? Or like Alice, who had always been cruel to him… Theseus said that Slytherins were cruel, but he hadn’t really believed him. Not when even he knew about the silly rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“Oh, no. I don’t think I could put you in Slytherin. No, that’s not at all you.”

That was probably good, Theseus would have been so disappointed if he’d been a Slytherin. But would Leta be disappointed with him if he wasn’t one? Could they still be friends, even if she was sharing a dormitory with Alice and not him? Thank Merlin he wasn’t brave enough to be a Gryffindor either, or else she might have been really upset.

“Oh, my dear boy, you do sell yourself short. Your bravery may be different than your brother’s but you’re far braver than you realise. Not many would break into a Hippogriff enclosure when they’re barely old enough to play unsupervised. But you’re right, Gryffindor is not quite right for you. Your kind of bravery is better suited elsewhere.”

That left him with Ravenclaw, like his father, or Hufflepuff. He liked the sound of Hufflepuff, even if Leta had suggested that was a boring house.

“You do know what you want, don’t you? But you’re selfless and loyal, and that means you’re too busy thinking about what other people want for you. But I know you, and I know you’ll go against what other people are doing, even if it’s not easy, to do the right thing. You have a good heart, and I don’t doubt that you will work hard here. Which means, without a doubt, that you belong in- Hufflepuff!” This last word was shouted to the rest of the hall, and Newt walked, as if in a trance, over to take his seat the moment the Hat was removed from his head.

It was only when he had sat down that he realised that the Hat had called him a boy, and a moment after that he realised he had liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's now 3am and I'm not sure whether my Sorting Hat song is good or the worst thing I've ever written anymore, but I've done it and now it's on the internet so. That's a thing.


	8. The Pebble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For as long as Newt could remember, his brother had been brave and strong, happy and fun. It was Newt that was the crybaby, not Theseus. Which was why, when Newt heard the faint sniffling coming from Theseus’s bedroom, he knew something was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have the least regular upload schedule of any author ever. On the plus side, if you're subscribed to me then you're in for plenty of random surprises!
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is based on prompts for more comfort, stimming and the word 'pebble', and Newt is 7.

For as long as Newt could remember, his brother had been brave and strong, happy and fun. It was Newt that was the crybaby, not Theseus. Which was why, when Newt heard the faint sniffling coming from Theseus’s bedroom, he knew something was wrong.

He crept down the hallway that separated his bedroom and Theseus’s, walking on the balls of his feet and listening intently. He wasn’t supposed to be out of bed after 9 o’clock, but this was an emergency. If Theseus had heard him crying, he would have come to find him too. 

“Theseus?” Newt called in a hushed voice as he tapped on his brother’s bedroom door, but he didn’t answer. Theseus always answered, even when he was angry. This was even more serious than he had thought, then. Which meant that this called for drastic measures. 

Newt crept back to his room and started pulling out every object he had ever used to cheer himself up, placing them all on top of his softest, most favourite blanket. But would that be enough? This was a serious situation, after all. He’d need more than just a few comfort objects if he wanted to make Theseus happy again. “Minnie?” he called, his voice soft, and with a crack, the house elf appeared before him and bowed.

“Is Miss Artemis needing something from Minnie before bedtime?” she asked in a squeaky voice that Newt sincerely hoped wouldn’t be audible to his parents downstairs.

“Theseus is sad. Can you bring up some of the strawberry cakes he likes, please? Oh, and milk too. We need milk with cakes. And please don’t tell Mummy or Daddy.”

“Yes, Miss Artemis,” she said with another bow. “Minnie will bring them to Master Theseus’s bedroom as soon as Minne can.”

“Thank you, Minnie.” 

“T’is no trouble, Miss Artemis,” she said and with that, she disappeared with another crack. That had to be enough, didn’t it? He was pretty sure he had thought of everything. So now all that was left to do was to take it all to Theseus’s room and cheer him up. He scooped up the blanket and dragged it down the hall, but this time, he didn’t even bother with knocking. Was was the point if Theseus wasn’t going to answer?

His brother was lying on his bed, wrapped up under the covers, with tears running down his cheeks. It was strange, seeing him like that, and not in a fun strange way. “Theseus?” he murmured, and Theseus blinked at him. 

“Artemis, what are you doing?” he asked wearily, and Newt forced himself to smile brightly, despite his worries about his brother’s state. That was the expression he was supposed to make, wasn’t it? That was how you made people happier, right? 

“I’m cheering you up! Look, I brought the best blanket in the whole world, Teddy, my special rocks, Beedle, my feathers, and my toy wand, and Minnie’s gonna bring milk and cakes!” he listed as he deposited them all at the end of the bed. The blanket should be first, he thought, and then Teddy, so he grabbed them first and thrust them at his brother, who was staring at him with tears still in his eyes. 

“Temmie…” he murmured, but he didn’t seem to know what to say next. But that was okay. Newt knew how hard words could be when you were upset. So he simply draped the blanket over his brother and placed his teddy down carefully beside him, then crawled back to the end of the bed. What next, what would be the best comfort for Theseus? He liked telling Newt stories, so perhaps he’d like Beedle. But he had already read all those stories and he was probably better at reading them than Newt was. The wand? Maybe, but he’d always said Newt was strange for putting it in his mouth so much, so he probably didn’t understand the calming appeal of that particular activity. He didn’t even suck his thumb, so almost certainly not. That would be one for playing later, then. The rocks? They all felt so nice, Theseus had to appreciate them. Yes, they were perfect! He grabbed two of them and moved back up the bed to sit next to Theseus, offering one out to him. It was one of his favourites, a wonderfully smooth oval shaped pebble which seemed to shine silver in the right light that he had found during a visit to the seaside and stuffed into his pockets before anyone could notice and tell him to stop picking things up off the ground. 

“Why are you giving me a pebble?” Theseus asked, and his voice had that all too familiar strain to it that Newt recognised as the strain of trying not to cry anymore.

“It’s one of my special rocks. You touch it and rub it and it helps you feel okay again,” he explained, rubbing his thumb over his own one, a smaller, black pebble that was almost entirely flat, turning it over and over in his hand.

“Is it enchanted?” Theseus asked with a faint frown, but he took the pebble all the same and tried to mirror Newt’s movements. 

“I don’t know. It just feels nice,” he replied with a little shrug. He never understood how things like this worked, only that some things could make him feel right and some made him feel all wrong. “You can keep that one, if you like. It’s one of my favourites but I’ve got more and I don’t think you have any, so you can have it.” 

Theseus let out a soft sound that Newt couldn’t quite place the meaning of, and Newt looked up to see fresh tears welling in his eyes. Well, that wasn’t right at all. What had he done wrong? “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but Theseus shook his head.

“No, don’t be… I love you, Temmie,” he mumbled, and pulled Newt into a tight hug. Oh. Well, that wasn’t what he’d expected at all. People were so weird sometimes. 

“Why are you crying?” Newt asked as he wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed tightly. 

“Because you’re sweet,” Theseus said softly, but that made even less sense. Why would anyone be upset about Newt being sweet? And Theseus had been crying before Newt had even knocked on the door. 

Before Newt could question him further, there was a loud crack, and he looked up to see Minnie holding a tray. “Minnie has your cakes and milk, Miss Artemis and Master Theseus,” she squeaked, and Theseus managed a smile. 

“Thank you, Minnie.”

“It is no trouble, Master Theseus. Minnie is pleased to be helping! Master Theseus and Miss Artemis are always so kind to Minnie!” she said as she placed the tray down on Theseus’s bedside table and bowed deeply. “Are Master Theseus and Miss Artemis needing anything more from Minnie?”

“No, thank you,” Newt told her, and she bowed to him too. 

“Minnie will be returning to her cleaning, then. Minnie hopes Master Theseus will be feeling better soon,” she said, and disapparated with a crack.

Ordinarily, Newt would have grabbed whichever cake looked best right away, but if he took the one Theseus wanted, then Theseus might be more upset and that wouldn’t do at all.

Theseus still didn’t look happy, but he did smile faintly as he took a cake from the tray. And the moment he had done so, Newt grabbed one for himself. “Do you feel happy now?” he asked after a moment. 

“I guess I feel a bit better,” Theseus agreed with a faint smile, and Newt beamed a gap-toothed smile and bounced in his seat in sheer delight. It had worked, he had made Theseus happy again!

“You have far too much energy, Tem,” Theseus said softly as he polished off his cake. “How do you manage to bounce around so much? You’re practically vibrating.”

“It’s so nice and fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” Theseus repeated with a faint frown.

“Yeah. Like when you do this,” he said as he started to flap his hands, moving them so quickly they became a blur of motion as a grin spread across his face. “Or this when everything’s happening too much.” He stopped moving his hands and switched to rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm.

But far from the realisation Newt had expected to see, Theseus just looked more confused. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean, ‘when everything’s happening too much’?”

“You know, when it’s just too much! It feels like your head’s all full but there’s more stuff trying to get in and it’s really bad.” Surely, Theseus had to know what he meant. Granted, Newt had never seen Theseus get overwhelmed in the same way, but it had to happen sometimes, didn’t it? But his face was still blank, not even a hint of recognition. “Does that only happen to me?” Newt asked hesitantly. He was still now, and picked up his pebble again to run his fingers over it. It helped, giving his hands something to do. That was why he had his special rocks. The reassuring weight in his hand, the coolness of it, the smooth texture, all of it seemed to work together to weigh him back down to Earth, cool his emotions and smooth out the jumble of thoughts in his mind. 

“I think so,” Theseus said softly.

“Oh.” He supposed that explained a lot. No wonder people told him off for his strange movements and his bursts of emotion if they didn’t get the same feelings that he did. Though the idea that there was something wrong with him was hardly a pleasant one to confront.

But then Theseus’s arms were around him, and he didn’t feel wrong. He felt safe and there, really there rather than lost somewhere in his own mind. “It’s okay, though,” Theseus told him. “I think. You’re just… sensitive.”

Newt smiled faintly and settled back against Theseus’s chest. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to have gone. He was meant to be comforting Theseus, not the other way around. “Why were you upset earlier?” he asked in an attempt to get his plan back on track. 

But Theseus just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, little one. I’ve got my favourite baby sister with me now, and she’s done an excellent job looking after me.” Newt beamed broadly at that, so delighted with the praise that he didn’t even think to continue questioning him, and Theseus chuckled faintly, then pressed a light kiss to the top of Newt’s head.


	9. The Centaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Black had told them explicitly not to leave their dormitories at night and to under no circumstances enter the Forbidden Forest, but Newt had never been very good at following that sort of instruction. Or, at least, not when disobeying seemed so very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait, but let's pretend I was MIA for really cool reasons that have nothing to do with adulthood, poor time management or video games, okay?
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 11.

Newt had been at Hogwarts for three weeks by the time he finally gave in to the urge to go exploring. Professor Black had told them explicitly not to leave their dormitories at night and to under no circumstances enter the Forbidden Forest, but Newt had never been very good at following that sort of instruction. Or, at least, not when disobeying seemed so very interesting.

So, in the dead of night, Newt crept out of his Common Room and out into the grounds. It was pleasantly cool and blissfully quiet and for the first time since he had arrived, the castle seemed truly beautiful, a dark shape illuminated by a waxing moon. And there, just ahead, was the Forest. 

The trees seemed to envelop him almost immediately, but he didn’t mind it. It was calming, really. The world could be so loud and so bright sometimes, and as fascinating as it was, it could hurt so much. But despite his fondness for the dark, it would be awfully impractical to explore with such little illumination, so he lit his wand with a murmured ‘lumos’. 

With his wand lit, Newt could see a few feet around him, which mostly consisted of trees and dirt. He would have quite liked to try climbing the trees, but he wasn’t sure it would be possible without some sort of a boost. But Newt being Newt, of course, he tried it anyway. 

He couldn’t do it in the dark, that was out of the question, and even he wasn’t silly enough to try climbing one handed. So he did the only thing he could think of and held his wand between his teeth, and jumped. He held on for a second and tried to scramble upwards, but it was to no avail. There seemed to be no way of getting a secure grip, no low hanging branch or foothold close enough to the ground for him to get up properly. So he gave up on that particular tree and moved on to another likely candidate. This one seemed to have far more small, unstable branches, but Newt was still pretty sure he could manage it. And this time, he managed to keep his grip as he ascended to a seemingly safe looking branch. He reached out for it and swung across, and-

CRACK

Newt fell, an involuntary cry of surprise causing his wand to drop alongside him as he smacked into the hard ground below. He could feel his bottom lip start to tremble at the pain, his eyes welling up with tears. He had hit his head on the protruding roots of the tree and every bit of him seemed to hurt. 

“You should not be here, child,” said a deep, slow voice that made Newt jump so frightfully that he nearly hit his head again. He turned, blinking the tears away, and standing a few metres away was a man- no, not a man. A centaur.

He had an ebony black flank and skin not much lighter, with hair that fell in braids to his chest. It was by far the longest hair he’d seen on any man, but he supposed this wasn’t a man. Things were probably different for centaurs. Or, at least, half different.

Adults liked to shake hands upon meeting new people, and hippogriffs - who weren’t by any means the same, but shared some qualities with centaurs - liked you to bow. So, Newt decided, he’d be best doing both. He got shakily to his feet, his legs throbbing, and bowed, then held out his hand to the centaur, who took it, seemingly bemused. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your greeting traditions,” Newt said. “I was just exploring, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

It was probably annoying, to hear such a loud noise in a quiet forest, particularly at night. He might have woken the poor centaur up. 

The centaur looked at him for a few moments, as if assessing him. “You don’t seem afraid of me, child.”

“That’s because I’m not afraid.”

“You are hurt.” It was a statement, not a question, and Newt found himself at a loss for how he was supposed to respond.

“Yes,” he said. “I fell out of a tree.”

“This is not your forest, young one. You should not be climbing our trees.”

“I know. It’s yours, isn’t it? Or your herd’s, at least. I just wanted to have a look, I didn’t mean to fall or break anything or disturb you. My brother said there’s all kinds of magical creatures in here, see.” He cut himself off before he could get going. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy such a magnificent creature.

Instead of annoyed, the centaur seemed to be surprised. “You accept centaur ownership of the land?” he said slowly.

“Of course. You live here. It’s your territory.”

“Then you are aware you are trespassing.” 

“I- Well, I… I really just wanted to look around. I wasn’t going to do anything bad, I promise.” He looked up at the centaur with pleading eyes that he had so often employed on his parents and his brother when begging for things he so desperately wanted. “I know it’s your forest, or this part of it is yours, but other creatures live here too, don’t they? My brother told me there were unicorns and bowtruckles and fairies and I want to meet them! If they’re allowed to be in here, can’t I come in too? Please, Mr…?”

“Aurelis,” the centaur said.

“Mr Aurelis, please? I swear I don’t want to do any harm.” 

The centaur considered him for a moment, then directed his attention skyward. “Jupiter ought to be brighter,” he said, and Newt wasn’t entirely sure what that had to do with anything. But he so seldom knew how conversation worked with his fellow humans that he didn’t feel particularly put out by the matter. As he so often did, he decided that saying nothing was his safest bet and instead joined the centaur in looking skywards as if he too were able to make sense of the stars.

“You are strange, child,” he said eventually, and it took Newt a moment to realise that he was being addressed again.

“I know. The girls in my dormitory told me,” he said. He still didn’t know what he’d done wrong to make them think so, though. He had tried to be nice and talk to them properly, but somehow, in the very first week, he had done something strange and they had decided that they weren’t going to like him. But how was he supposed to get better at this if no one said what he had done wrong? Perhaps he ought to ask Theseus, maybe he would know. What with having all his friends around and all his classes, Theseus hadn’t had as much time for Newt as he had hoped. And while Newt knew Theseus just wanted him to make friends in his own year and spend time with them instead, the fact that he wasn’t doing particularly well at that just made the distance between them feel worse. He had Leta, but she had friends in her own House to spend time with, which left Newt a little lost.

“Most of your kind are narrow-minded, egotistical and ignorant. They believe the stars care for their individual fates and the world exists solely for them.”

“I know,” Newt said again.

“And that,” Aurelis said with a faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “is what makes you a strange one. Not many humans would ask a centaur permission, nor respect our ways.”

“Most humans aren’t very nice to anyone even a little bit different to them,” Newt agreed, toying with the sleeve of his robes as he spoke. “They think everything should be their way and how they like it and if you don’t like it or want things different then they think your way is wrong. I don’t like it when they do that to me, so why would I go on and do the same thing to someone else?”

Aurelis looked at him again, and Newt felt as if he were having his entire being critiqued. “You are oddly wise for a human, young one.”

“My name is Artemis,” he said, realising suddenly that it had slipped his mind to introduce himself.

“Artemis,” Aurelis repeated, and Newt couldn’t help noting how odd his name was. Not in its rarity, that wasn’t the issue, but in how it didn’t seem to quite fit him, like a pair of shoes that pinched in the toes but were too wide around the sides. It was simply off, somehow. “Some believe that a goddess by the name of Artemis placed the constellation of Orion in the sky.”

“I’m definitely not a goddess,” Newt said, pulling a face at the thought, and the centaur gave a low, rumbling chuckle. 

“No. But events are coming that will shape the future of this world, and what you do may determine whether you are a hero or a coward. All the humans shall have to choose.”

“Why?” Newt asked, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going to happen?”

“A change,” the centaur said simply. “The skies tell my kind much, and rarely do we fail to interpret the signs.”

To him, the stars just looked like faint pinpricks of light, pretty but only illuminating in the physical sense. Mentally, he didn’t know how Aurelis could learn anything from them at all. But he hadn’t been given the chance to study Divination yet, and Aurelis had surely been learning for a long time.

“You should return to the castle tonight. But you may return, provided you do so alone,” Aurelis said, and Newt beamed brighter than any star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get me back into the swing of this fic, I'm taking prompts again! Comment a word or phrase and I'll see if I can turn it into a chapter!


	10. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just his brother, he didn’t have to be so afraid. But he was not the brave one of the pair. Despite all his efforts to be brave, he was still trembling and desperately trying to resist the urge to run away. He could do this. He had to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must have reworked this scene 12 times, I swear. And it's still quite self-indulgent but I do not care. 
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 15.

“Theseus?”

Newt hovered in the doorway to his brother’s bedroom, fidgeting with the faded Hufflepuff scarf wrapped around his neck. Newt had taken to wearing it far more often than was strictly necessary, and his parents had given up trying to stop him. It was just another one of his oddities, and they could just tell people that Newt got cold easily if anyone decided to question it. In reality, it had nothing to do with temperature, but instead the scarf functioned like a comfort blanket and something to keep his hands occupied whenever he felt nervous or uncomfortable. And in that moment, he didn’t think he’d ever felt more nervous in his life. 

“What?” Theseus asked, barely glancing up from the book he was reading as he lounged back on his bed.

It was just his brother, he didn’t have to be so afraid. But he was not the brave one of the pair. Despite all his efforts to be brave, he was still trembling and desperately trying to resist the urge to run away. He could do this. He had to do this. “I…” he began, and the scarf wasn’t enough to quell his nerves. He curled in on himself, his eyes fixed on his feet instead of looking at his brother. And this time, Theseus noticed that something was wrong.

“Artemis, what’s going on?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “Sit down and tell me.”

Hesitantly, Newt perched next to him, but kept his eyes firmly downcast. “I don’t really know how to explain this…”

“Listen, whatever it is, we can fix it,” Theseus promised and Newt felt the familiar, reassuring pressure of his brother’s arm around his shoulders. He leant into the embrace, tucking his head under Theseus’s chin.

“It’s not… Well, it-it is, but it’s not- not really the type of thing that…” he stammered, but forced himself to take a deep breath. He could do this. “I don’t want to be a girl, Theseus.”

Theseus was silent for a moment, and it took all of Newt’s effort not to cry. He was surely going to laugh or mock or tell him he had no choice. Except he didn’t.

“I don’t understand. You know girls can do most things boys can nowadays, don’t you? You could even wear boy's clothes if you really wanted to, I've heard some ladies are even going about wearing trousers nowadays. Being a girl doesn’t have to stop you.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. It doesn’t matter what girls can do, I don’t want to be one. It just feels all wrong, like there was some kind of mistake. Can’t someone turn me into a boy? Please?” He hadn’t meant to sound quite so desperate, so pleading, but he couldn’t help it. “I can’t be a girl, I can’t stand it. I’m just… I’m sad all the time like this, and I just feel  _ wrong _ .” The tears were threatening to fall yet again, but he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold them back. And yet that was not all he had held back. He wasn’t just sad when he considered a future of womanhood - a never-ending expanse of ‘her’, ‘Miss’, ‘witch’ and ‘lady’, of curved hips and full breasts and averting his eyes from every reflective surface, of the constant feeling of wrongness that pervaded his every waking moment - from which only death could free him, he was distraught. He couldn’t do it. Living like that for the rest of his days was no life at all, and the thought that he might still have no choice forced the tears to fall.

“Oh, Temmie, please don’t cry…” Theseus sighed and squeezed him gently. “What do you mean, a mistake?”

“It’s like I should have been born a boy and something went wrong. I hate how I look, I look like a woman but I just know that’s not right! I don’t look like  _ me _ .”

Another silence fell between them, and a glance up at his brother’s face told Newt that he was thinking deeply. “How long have you felt like this? How long have you wanted to be a boy?”

“Forever, I suppose. I’ve never  _ wanted _ to be a girl or liked being one, certainly, although it’s within the past couple of years that I realised that I wanted to be a boy instead. I just… I can’t explain why I want this so badly, but I really, really do. I’ve… I’ve actually been taking your clothes for years, once they get too small for you, just so I can feel more like myself. When I’m... When I look more like you, more like a boy, I hate myself a little less and everything feels a little more right. It feels like that’s how it’s supposed to be. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Theseus said slowly. “Well, no. Not at all. But you’ve always been a strange one. Really, what surprises me most is that you’ve been stealing from me for years and I haven’t even noticed. You little niffler,” he teased, and Newt managed a faint laugh. There was something comforting about Theseus still teasing him as if he didn’t despise the mere sight of him. “But you’re serious about this, then? You’ve wanted it for a long time?”

Newt took a deep breath and wiped his eyes on his scarf. “Yes.”

“How would this work if someone could turn you into a boy, though? Would you just change how you look and ask everyone to call you a man? And what about your dorms, would you stay sleeping with the girls? And speaking of girls… Do you like girls or boys, then?”

Newt hid his face in his scarf, but his blush must surely have still been obvious. “Theseus!” he whined.

“What? I’m only asking! I always assumed boys, but if you want to be a boy… Well, I don’t know which it would be,” he said with a good-natured shrug that did nothing to lessen Newt’s embarrassment. “You’re fifteen, I know you’ve thought about kissing someone, even if you haven’t done any actual kissing yet.”

There had been countless times when his overactive imagination filled him with all sorts of strange feelings and desires, including those far beyond kissing, but he didn’t particularly want to tell Theseus that, particularly when he didn’t know if he’d like the answer. He was supposed to have a preference, Theseus had as good as said so, but what if Newt found his eyes drawn to both men and women? Would a proper preference emerge once puberty had run its course or would he be faced with permanent indecision? But it didn’t really matter - no one wanted to kiss him anyway, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted them to. He would surely fall short in anyone’s eyes, not truly male and yet not female either in such a way that no individual’s preference could be satisfied. And even if there was a hypothetical partner who was willing to put up with such a state of affairs in theory, he wasn’t going to pretend that he was attractive, charming or likeable enough for them to put up with  _ him _ . He was annoying and awkward and freakish, with a frankly repulsive body and a face that didn’t fare much better, his interests were wrong and his beliefs even more so, and he could count the number of human friends he had on one hand. The fact was that he was unloveable, and the matter of his sex exacerbated that unfortunate circumstance. So, it was best to simply ignore the whole realm of attraction altogether. He could do without love and kissing, that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Can we please talk about something other than kissing?” Newt said, rather than explain all this to Theseus. Close though they might be, there were some thoughts he would rather keep to himself.

“Alright, alright. Back to my original question - what are you going to do? How does this work, then? Human transfiguration is awfully difficult for most people and I’m not sure it’s permanent, and even if it is, people will ask questions.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what people like me usually do, if there even are any other people like me.” That thought had preyed on his mind far more than he wanted to let on. What if he was a true freak of nature, the only person in the world to feel this way?

“Hmm. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone changing their sex. Maybe Binns will know, I can ask when we get back to school.”

“Don’t tell him!” Newt said in alarm, a rush of anxiety spiking inside him. If word got out that he was even more of a freak than people had previously thought… Well, Newt really didn’t want to face the consequences. 

“Hey, I can be sneaky! I don’t have to tell him I’m asking because of you,” Theseus said, although Newt privately thought that his brother had about as much subtlety as a stunning spell to the face.

“And what if he says it’s wrong, that people shouldn’t be like that?” he asked, his fingers toying with the edge of his scarf once more. It was soft and familiar and helped keep him calm, even if it did add to the general air of childish awkwardness that he exuded. 

“Well, if he says that, I’ll be getting chucked out for punching him. But don’t worry. If you worry and it’s fine, then you’ve just made yourself suffer unnecessarily, and if it’s not fine, you’re going to suffer twice,” Theseus said with an easy shrug and, despite being several inches shorter and much skinnier than his brother, Newt fixed him with the most threatening stare he could muster. 

“Don’t go getting expelled for me. You get in enough trouble on your own, and my… This isn’t worth it.”

“I’m your big brother, I’m always going to look out for you,” Theseus promised, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. “Hey… Does this mean you could end up being my little brother?”

Oh. Those words definitely felt good to hear, so good that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I think so, yes.”

“Are you still going to be Artemis, or are you changing that too?”

“I, er… I like the name Newt. Short for Newton.” He glanced up at his brother, searching for some sign of approval, and not for the first time, he felt blessed at how animated Theseus could be. He was grinning, and threw an arm around Newt yet again.

“Newton Scamander, eh? You don’t want to keep up the Greek tradition, then?”

“W-well, I’m thinking of keeping Artemis as a middle name, so I-I have sort of-”

“I’m only teasing, Tem- Newt. Or should I stick to calling you Artemis?”

“I… Could you call me Newt when we’re alone?” he asked nervously. That might be too much to ask, pushing things too far, but being Newt just felt so wonderful. It was right in a way nothing else in his life ever had been. He knew he couldn’t ask for that in front of or from anyone else, couldn’t expect the world to indulge him, but if Theseus was willing...

“I can try, if that’d make you happy. It’s going to be hard, though, and I’ll probably mess it up sometimes.” But Newt didn’t care. The fact that he was actually willing to call him Newt could make up for a thousand mistakes. “Newt, my brother’s called Newt,” he repeated under his breath, in a similar fashion to the way he would revise for his exams at the very last minute, and Newt simply couldn’t stop himself bouncing in his seat. If he didn’t expel some of this emotion somehow, he’d surely explode. Theseus just smiled fondly and pulled him into a squeezing hug, the kind that always felt best.

“I don’t want anyone else to know, though. I don’t think they’ll understand.”

“I won’t tell, but if they ever did find out then they'd have me to answer to, wouldn’t they?” Theseus said with an air of firm confidence. 

“If one person finds out then everyone will, and you can’t duel the entire school.”

“Of course I can, and if I have to, I will.”

“I’ll rephrase that. Don’t duel the entire school.”

“I’d win, and you know it.”

“Yes, well. It’s not your skill I’m doubting,” Newt muttered, shaking his head. “I just don’t think even you could take more than three opponents at a time.”

“You’re so convinced no one else is going to be on your side.”

Newt laughed humorlessly. “You know people don’t like me, surely? They generally leave me alone in most cases, and aside from you and Leta, I don’t think anyone else would voluntarily spend time with me. Some people are more willing when I win at quidditch, but even then that’s just because I’m useful. I’m still strange and annoying.”

Theseus frowned at him. “Newt. Look at me,” he said, and Newt had to force himself to focus on Theseus’s eyes. He didn’t like it, it didn’t feel right, and the moment Theseus started talking again, he let his eyes move away, looking instead at a spot on the bedcovers. “You might be strange and you might be annoying sometimes, but you’re a good kid. You’ll find people who like you if you open up a bit.” 

That was easy for Theseus to say. He was always a ball of energy and charm, everyone seemed to like him. He was funnier and smarter than Newt and he always seemed to know what to do or say around people. It often felt as though everyone else had been given lessons in how to interact with people that Newt had never received, and Theseus was surely top of the class there too. 

“Don’t give me that look. There will always be people who don’t like you, no matter what you do. But they’re not usually important.”

Except Theseus had probably never been picked last for anything in his life, never been left on his own when his class had been instructed to get into pairs. Whereas Newt found himself in that position almost every time, unless he happened to be in a class with Leta when she didn’t pick someone else. Theseus had probably never felt lost and alone like Newt so often did. His scepticism must have shown, as Theseus continued.

“Look, it might not be great now, but that’s because you’re fifteen and you’re scared. And scared is okay, scared doesn’t mean you can’t be brave. But people can’t make you brave, okay? You make yourself brave.”

“How?”

“You stop giving a fuck what people think and do whatever makes you happy. It’ll be hard at first but the more tell yourself that you don’t care, the more true it becomes. Then if people like you, they’ll like you for who you actually are. And maybe people will like Newt more than they like Artemis.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Why would you want to be friends with people who don’t like you?”

Newt opened his mouth to reply, but found that no retort came to him. He had never been happy trying to pretend to be someone he was not. What was the point in becoming Newt Scamander if he was going to keep trying to change himself to be what other people preferred, only in a different way?

Theseus grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “See, I’m not just an incredibly handsome and phenomenally talented wizard.”

“No, you’re also a big-headed prat,” Newt teased, but his gratitude was surely obvious on his face. Theseus could usually read these things well.

“Hey, watch it, squirt!” Theseus’s eyes suddenly widened and his mouth fell open as if he had just had a profound realisation. “Tadpole,” he said slowly, the smile on his face widening and a mischievous glint appearing in his eye.

“Sorry?”

“A baby newt is called a tadpole, right?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s… I think that’s frogs, Theseus.”

“Then what’s a baby newt called?”

“I don’t know!”

“It’s your name!”

“And?”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re a tadpole.”

Newt laughed and elbowed his brother in the abdomen. “Your sense of humour is ridiculous.”

“Then why are you laughing?” he retorted, giving Newt a playful shove in return.

“Because you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Newt muttered, but a moment later he was hugging his brother tight. “Thanks,” he said softly, and Theseus squeezed him gently.

“Anytime, little one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would angst be more realistic? Probably. But I'm giving my boy one (1) good thing for now. There may be issues further down the line but for now, he gets a supportive big brother.
> 
> EDIT: a baby Newt is called an eft, not a tadpole, but I didn't know without looking it up and I liked the 'tadpole' interaction so it stayed.


	11. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wailed pitifully and sank to the ground in a mess of fabric skirts, tears dragging his makeup down his face. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rises from the dead to post more shit no one asked for*
> 
> This is some heavy dysphoria centred stuff with references to suicidal thoughts, so please be aware this could be massively triggering (which is somewhat ironic given that I wrote it as a break from triggering myself with the next Break Free chapter).
> 
> In this chapter, Newt is 14.

He had never liked all these parties his parents insisted on throwing. Ever since he could remember, he’d felt uncomfortable in his fancy dress robes with so many people around him. But this year was set to be the worst yet, Newt realised as he examined his reflection in the mirror and had to push down bile. 

There was no doubt about the fact that he looked horrendously ugly, some kind of freakish monster caught in a poor attempt at disguising itself as a well-to-do woman, a ridiculous costume that no amount of expert transfiguration could make fit. The painstakingly applied kohl and rouge just looked like a mess of paint on his face, and his dress… His dress was the worst of it. The plunging neckline revealed a pale, freckled expanse skin that Newt would have been more than happy to continue to hide, an expanse only emphasised by the tightness of his new, formal undergarments. It all looked so unnatural, so intrinsically wrong, as though someone had stuck his head on someone else’s body. Or worse, a collection of body parts artificially transfigured together. The dress was surely beautiful, green with black lace and probably very in style, but on his patchwork form, it looked disgusting.

He wailed pitifully and sank to the ground in a mess of fabric skirts, tears dragging his makeup down his face. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Seeing himself like this only solidified what he had been trying to ignore. Since starting Hogwarts, his magic hadn’t been the only thing to develop. His body had changed too, shooting upwards and taking on an entirely different shape. He was no longer a smaller, skinner, long-haired version of his brother but a malformed, ugly creature who felt like a stranger in the new body he inhabited, the body that had changed without his permission and now didn’t look right no matter what he did or how hard he tried. And though he didn’t know how or why, he knew he was wrong. He would never, could never be like the other girls, but he couldn’t be like the boys either. He would never belong anywhere.

Sobs wracked his body as he put his head on his arms and let the tears flow. He’d crease his dress, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if it could look any worse on him. He wanted to rip it off, then rip his hair out, rip his skin off and all the awful parts underneath until he was as fragmented as he felt and free of all the pain. He wanted to be free from it all so badly.

He lifted his head and caught sight of his reflection again. The mess he’d made of himself only solidified his sheer ugliness in his own mind, so ugly that he couldn’t bear to look at himself a single second longer. He sobbed harder and the mirror shattered around him in a burst of pure magic, falling around him like like raindrops. 

It could have been beautiful if he hadn’t been so vile.

If only he could shatter himself so easily. Perhaps he would be beautiful then. At least he wouldn’t hurt any longer. And no one would have to look at his repulsive form again. No one would have to deal with the freak who didn’t belong anywhere, the oddity that didn’t want to exist. That was the truth of it - he simply didn’t want to exist anymore. He would never get to grow up, but if growing up meant such anguish, he may as well pack it all in before it could get worse (if such a thing were even possible).

Something soft brushed against him and he turned his tear stained face to see Diana, his kneazle, looking at him inquisitively. He sobbed harder as she brushed up against his cheek, the guilt coursing through his veins alongside his disgust. If he hurt himself, who would love her and look after her as he did? She wouldn’t be able to understand what had happened, would never fully know why one day her doting friend had disappeared? And Theseus, poor Theseus, he’d feel like he’d failed, he’d always been so intent on looking after him. Their parents would be distraught too, inconsolable but ashamed too. Yet would they be more ashamed if they found out what Newt really was? They already wanted him to be more normal. Could they ever bear finding out he was even less normal than they thought?

There was only one course of action. As much as Newt hated it, he got unsteadily to his feet and took a few deep, steadying breaths. He’d fix himself up, go downstairs, and be the perfect daughter. He’d feel nothing at all, distant from himself until he was so far away that this wasn’t his body at all, that he was just an automaton disguised as a person. He’d force himself to smile and to pretend, to hide any abnormality. 

He already knew he’d fail, of course. Everyone else seemed to just know how to play the game, how to be a normal person, but no one had ever taught Newt. They just waited for him to fail and punished him for it. And no matter how hard he tried, he always failed. Yet whenever he succeeded, his discomfort with it all was as good as a punishment. There was simply no way for him to win. 

He’d just have to accept being a failure, no matter how hard he tried to be what was expected of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but extending it any more didn't feel right so this is what we're going with.


End file.
